Love Lemonade
by Chiisu Y
Summary: Thinking that Shuichi would come back again and again was a terrible mistake. Now, Eiri's second love has returned, changed before his eyes and forever warped. Five years will do that to you, I suppose. {revised!}
1. Open Eyes

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Disclaimer: Thankies for making it this far. Although that isn't very far at all. ::nervous laughter:: So let's get down to business, shall we? First of all, I do not own Gravitation, because to do so would make me Maki Murakami. As you can probably tell from my lack of humor and all things cute and fluffy (not in my story, so don't turn back now!!!), I am no such person. I also wanted to say that this is my first fanfic ever. It may be a bit wordy, so please review and tell me what you think. This is a revised version of the original Love Lemonade, BTW. Well, that is about all I have to say for now. Oh! And one more thing! If you didn't know that Gravitation was a shounen-ai, now you know . Ja Ne minna-san!  
  
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Love Lemonade  
  
By Chiisu Y.  
  
Ch 1:  
  
Open Eyes  
  
Despite the frailty of my mind, I can paint a beautiful image within its complexity. Extraordinary shapes and colors swarm in the vivid pools of words that spout from my soul, resurfacing old memories and killing me inside. With this spectacular picture in my head I can begin putting it into words so that others may see what I see. However, I hate doing it. I hate writing because of that. I hate the fact that the most precious memories in my heart, my innermost mind, are destined to be shared with pathetic housewives and horny schoolgirls. My words were meant to be mine, but you see, those same words are what they use to escape. They play with fiction, thinking that one day they can also have a perfect, wonderfully tragic ending. They detest the brutality of the honest world that they live in, and so they want something better than their God can offer. In all actuality, I hate my life as well. I am not exactly sure if it makes much sense to hate your own existence. Either way, I fall asleep each night to the same distorted reality. I cannot breathe in this world, the world of my dreams that is. It is choking to constantly relive the most horrific event of my life. Yet within my cruel dreams, there is always a disgustingly brilliant light. A ray of hope can come in nearly any form. My ray of hope came in the form of an annoying, overly sincere, and captivatingly beautiful person. I think I love him, but I can never truly be sure. Damn, I've turned into a soft-hearted idiot. Whenever I kiss him, I never truly close my eyes. I simply stare at him, hoping that he would open his own stunningly azure optics and see how cold mine are. I want him to leave me. I have wanted that since he moved in with me. Not because I hate him, but because I am tortured by him. He constantly plays with my fragile heart, toying with my emotion and forcing me to bring down my barriers, to face my demons. It's just like me to shack up with a retard, isn't it? I'm not ready. I just can't tell him that I love him. If I did . . .  
  
If I did . . .  
  
Slowly, a pale eyelid flutters open. I've been watching him and waiting for him to awaken for about five minutes now. Such sweet lovers we must be to wake up within minutes of one another. Gag me. Being the idiot that he his, the other side of his face is already buried in his pillow from snuggling into it too much. The boy loves that stupid object. I can't take it way from him, because if I do, he'll wake up. On the other hand . . . that is, more often then not, how I wake him up for a quick shag or two. With a sigh, I run my hands through my locks then gaze into his lazuline eyes, resisting a smile as I reach over and touch his wine-colored hair. It's easy to find oneself inhaling the subtle strawberry perfume that forever douses his perfect skin. It's that damned herbal shampoo. I take a few strands of his tresses through my fingers, softly caressing his hair then move a slender finger down his peach cheek. Still resisting a smile of my own, I tickle him a bit under his neck with those same feathery light touches. It was just enough to send him bursting into laughter and throwing me a huge grin. He really is an idiot. At last he gets his head off of the pillow so that I can see his face. He smiles gently as the light filters though the blinds, allowing rays of fresh morning sun to decorate his skin.  
  
"Good morning, Yuki." He whispers to me in a songlike tone.  
  
He leans onto his elbows, looking down at me from where he lay. Swiftly, he delivers a delicate kiss upon my lips. His kisses are always so affectionate and divine. They simply beckon me to greet them yet again. And so I do. Being certain to claim those succulent lips as much as possible, I try not to cut off his air. As our kiss goes deeper, I lay him down underneath me. It's as things should be too. That idiotic brat is mine. Finally I part from his sweet mouth with a slight scowl on my face. It was a bit too sweet.  
  
"Tell me that wasn't lip gloss I tasted just now." He leans up to my ear, placing his lips slightly on the sensitive spot. I can't help but smile inside as he whispers those words that I have heard from him every morning since he moved in with me two years ago.  
  
"I love you." He lays back down and giggles like a schoolgirl. "Ten points if you can guess the flavor."  
  
I never quite knew why I couldn't relate those words back to him. Maybe its because I don't wear lip gloss. Seriously though, I can't say how I feel about him. Those three simple words seem to be used so often in my novels. With only a syllable each, it is a wonder how they can be so hard to say. It's always something said by my heroine right before her "shining knight" goes off into battle. She cries for a while, like the dolt she is, and then sends him off with a kiss and an artless prayer. Little do my readers know, but my own lover has never heard those words escape my lips. He is so deprived of my love. I don't know how he withstands my cold demeanor and bitter words. No . . . I do know. I just hate to admit that he is stronger than me, even though he always had been. He is so simple and naive, although fate keeps flirting with him. She deals him all the bad cards and causes this, in my own eye, insurmountable pain. But he has overcome her game. His affection is laced with a sickening strength that rests within him. He could never fight anyone alone. In fact, I'm amused at the thought of Shuichi beating up another guy. The pansy wouldn't last five minutes. You see, the strength has nothing to do with kicking someone's ass. It's the strength to say with me that he has come to grow into. I am hurting him with my words and lies, constantly threatening to leave him, having left and came back to his amazement, all that and never saying the 'L' word. I just want to wish it all away. I want him to know that he means more to me than anything else in my life. Yet something within me won't permit me to tell him. Not yet at least. It stings inside.  
  
"Mixed Berry?"  
  
"No."  
  
"Whatever." I pull him onto me, grasping his oversized shirt. Correction, my perfectly sized shirt. With a gentle kiss, I cradle his head with my hand and embrace him. "Idiot." I add quickly to my note of surrender.  
  
He devotes to me an endearing smile while he latches a hand to my pajama shirt.  
  
I hear a drop of water, distantly.  
  
That's enough of that. I've shredded my dignity into quite enough of a bloody pulp, thank you very much. I shove him off of me. Why is it that even after two years of living together, I want to push him away now? Isn't that just peachy? I'm officially the least committed man in Tokyo. Of course it's nothing new. I've been like this for . . . well, for nearly nine years now. We fight all the time because of me and my insecurities. I am constantly pushing the thing I love most away from me. I give him an empty kiss on the cheek before making my way to the bathroom. He rubs his eyes as a throaty moan erupts from his lips. It's not like this is the first time he has done this, so I manage to ignore, plainly rolling my eyes as usual.  
  
"Yuki . . . Won't you stay with me a bit longer?" He whines.  
  
I disregard him as I take off my nightclothes. My lover continues his irritating begging. I go to him, half clothed and making him blush. He looks downward and mutters a dim-witted 'I'm sorry, Yuki'. I take his face in my hand, tilting his head upwards. I give him a small brush on the lips before returning to my morning routine. Again, he his flustered.  
  
"Stop that." I growl.  
  
"Stop what?"  
  
"Stop saying sorry like a pathetic puppy that had torn up his master's slippers."  
  
"I'm sorry." I narrow my eyes on him. If his comment was derived from spite, I probably would've punished him. Damn sincere brat. I walk from the bathroom and flick him on the nose, just to get a rise out him. He squeals in mock agony.  
  
"Yuki?" He asks quietly with a whine in his tone. He rubs his dainty little nose carefully.  
  
"Yes." I answer him with a slightly agitated voice.  
  
"Do you want me to make breakfast? It's Sunday and I don't have work so-" Another roll from my eyes is delivered.  
  
"Shut up."  
  
"Sorry. I'll be quiet now." Things are quite boring when he gives in like that. I can't stand it.  
  
I really don't know what makes me so cold to him. Perhaps it is that I fear becoming to close to him. I know that if I develop a stronger relationship, it will hurt even more if I were to lose him. Maybe that is just an excuse. I want to paint pictures with my words, using him as my only inspiration. I want him to swim in the sea of imagery and passion that is a Yuki Eiri novel. But this will not be a novel for just anyone to read. It will be our own. Instead of writing with a computer, or even paper and pencil, we will weave our story with our own lives, living each day to write a new sentence in the blessed book. Only those who agree to our love may bear witness to our tale. Good lord, his retarded ness is rubbing off on me. I sigh. He will know of my feelings one day, but for now I can't allow myself to cave in to anyone again. I won't be able to live with myself if I hurt him anymore.  
  
"Who spit in your milk today." Shu grumbles.  
  
"I said, shut up. Should I be more blunt because you're too stupid to understand?" It hurts to say, but the words continue to flow. I feel compelled to finish what I've started, no matter how cruel it may be. I want to say that I'm sorry. I hesitate. He speaks.  
  
"Hey, why are you mad at me? Did I do anything wrong? Whatever it is, I'll cut it out!" He runs to me, pawing at my chest. His voice is more determined than a whine. He is such a strong little thing. Strong and pink. It's a rather irritating color in my opinion. I look down at the ball of fluff he calls hair. I really wish he would dye it brown again, or at least let it grow out gracefully.  
  
"Your hair . . ." I argue, searching for a way out of this pit.  
  
"What's the matter with my hair?" It was a wrong move on my part. He's pissed, not threatening, but pissed.  
  
"It's disgusting. Why is it pink?" If possible, that was a worse move. For someone so intelligent, someone who had spent countless years studying to become a genius writer, I'm very socially inept.  
  
"It's always been pink, ever since I was in high school." He defended.  
  
I'm angered by his defiance, as always. "Dye it light brown, your natural color." I narrow my eyes on him.  
  
"Make me." He glowers. "Do you even have a reason to be mad, besides my terribly pink hair, of course . . . ?" I can hear sarcasm in his voice.  
  
"You know what; I have plenty of reason to be mad at you. You're loud, annoying, troublesome, and it's costing money to house you." I yell pushing him off of me roughly. "When was the last time you've paid the bills or had to deal with me whining? Never. You're a spoiled brat." He falls back to the bed with a loud thud. He is silent.  
  
"Yuki, why are you bringing this up again . . . ?" He catches his breath, indigo-ochre orbs still focused on me. Tears threaten to fall.  
  
"No. Don't you dare fucking talk to me or get all emotional. Listen you little brat, all you're good for is doing the laundry and sex. That's it. You're nothing to me but a cheap fuck." I'm a liar, a malicious liar.  
  
His peach lips quiver as he clutches his arms with lithe hands, short sobs racking his willowy frame as he doubles over. "I'm sorry, I . . ." he chokes out. Shimmering tears trickle down his small face. Eventually, he brings his hands to his visage, wiping each pristine tear as it falls from his lazuline eyes. "You . . . you bastard." The words pour form his mouth. I stare at him, unable to speak. "You're going to leave me again. You're going to throw me out!" His head snaps upwards. The stunning mixture of fear and shock that has registered on his face was too much for me. Still, I force him away in fleeting glances. It is necessary for some reason. I love that he is afraid of me, afraid to loose me. It's how I tame the lion within him. I want him to be afraid.  
  
"Why would I ever want to stay with you?"  
  
"You're a damned self centered fool." He says bluntly as he walks out of the room.  
  
Even though I want to grab his hand as he saunters off, I know it would be admitting a weakness within me. My heart longs to break down and cry with him, to say I'm sorry and to be forgiven. Instead of taking him back into my arms as I should have, I head to the dresser. My mind was made up. I take a pair of pants and a shirt from his drawer, some brightly colored orange and yellow clothing that is often scattered all through my house. Promptly, I go to the living room where he sat in silence. He looks up at me, tears still streaming down his face.  
  
"What now?" He asks in defeat. Shuichi hides his face from me.  
  
"You fucking brat." His arm suffers my grasp. He hisses in pain as I twist him off of the couch.  
  
"I gave you your way, now let me go! What are you doing?!" He screamed in pain. That noise curled down my spine. "Ah! That hurts! Stop it!" Dragging his writhing frame to the doorway, I only tighten my grip on him.  
  
"My God, please! Stop this . . . It hurts, Yuki." He began to give in a little. The boy was no longer struggling to break free. I pitch him out of the entry throwing the garments to him shortly after. He landed on his side and gave a loud cry. I had hurt him. Not mentally, but physically. I feel sick.  
  
"There." I say in a hushed voice that disguises my true feelings.  
  
At least he won't freeze, if my coldness hasn't done so already. I slowly close the door, locking it behind me. Turning my back to the door, I lean against it, tears falling freely from my own eyes. I run a slender hand through my golden blonde tresses. Why the hell does this have to happen? I'm in love with the brat. I'm madly in love. Yet, no amount of preparation could help me say it to him. I always imagine the day I tell him. I use it as a comfort blanket. Like now. I hope that it will not be terribly romantic. In fact, I would think it best to tell him here, in our home as we bask in each others presence. It feels odd to call this our home. You see, these walls tell tales of an irritating boy who barged into my life and shared a kiss with me in an elevator shaft. They tell of a one night stand who found me the morning after and the joy he brought me without ever wanting anything in return. I hear him pounding on the door, willing me to comfort him, despite the fact that I caused his pain. Half of me wants to let him in, but half of me says he'll be better off. What have I just done? . . . .  
  
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I think that my story is going pretty well so far. I will fix it if it doesn't make any sense. I just thought that it would be better to be a bit more vague than other fan fics with Yuki's reasons for acting coldly towards Shuichi. I think so because Yuki is really vague in both the anime and the manga. Hmm . . . Well, that's all I have to say for now! Ja ne minna-san, arigatou gozaimasu!  
  
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	2. Revelation

Love Lemonade  
  
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Disclaimer: Gravi and it's characters are not mine, just so you know. Thank you all for reading this far, and a special thank you to all of my reveiwers. I'm so glad that you like my story. ^__^   
  
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Ch.2  
  
Shuichi  
  
I gave myself a scary thought when I arrived at my best friend's home that day. I think I always end up at his house whenever my lover treats me badly, or any time I feel needy for that matter. I never knew why, but every single time I was yelled at or abandoned, I would run here for cover. Maybe I thought of it as a sanctuary, a kind of place where I would be safe from the world. It would be better for me if I stay here, but something still pulls at my heart, telling me to return home. Wow, I think that's the first time I've called that place home. It is missing so much that my parents house, or even Hiro's house has. There is no love there. I may never truly be happy while I'm with him. Yet I still press on. I am an idiot, just like Yuki says. Although he treats me so badly sometimes, I know there is a bit of good in him. There has to be somewhere! Otherwise he wouldn't have taken me in, or let me see him cry! He has to care a little bit, right? Who am I fooling? See, another scary thought is that, no matter how much I need Yuki, he probably doesn't need me at all. So, why can't I hate him, let alone forget about him? I guess I just can't. I'm sure everyone asks themselves those questions sometime.  
  
Slowly, my gaze turns upward, staring at the huge sky in front of me. I smile, half of a smile really, and question myself. I don't think I've ever felt this strong. Normally, I would be crying. Today, for some reason, the negative outlook I had has just disappeared, all of my feelings of hopelessness along with it. I like thinking that I'm strong. After all, I don't like to give up. But what about Eiri? Does he care if I'm gone?   
  
"I wonder what I'm gonna do." I sigh softly. Not only was I alone, but I was kinda cold. It was . . . let's see . . . February 12th I think. Not really a warm time of the month for Tokyo. I pull down the sleeves to my shirt, hoping it could bring me a bit more comfort. Of course, nothing could warm me up like my Eiri wrapping his arms around me and saying in his angst covered voice: "Shuichi, your cheeks look pale. Here, let me warm you up." Ah! That would be just what I need to feel better!   
  
Well by that time, I was swallowed by thoughts of Yuki. I didn't know how he could do that to me. We had gotten along so well up until now. Well, not really. He was cold to me, very cold. In fact, I think we only just got by. I'm almost sure that Yuki only let me stay there in exchange for sex and cleaning the house without destroying anything. I can't help but feel like I am stupid. He took advantage of me. I feel so used. . . like a convenience store or something. I swipe a tear or two from my cheeks as I walk down the busy sidewalk. I feel forced to think about what happened that morning, for some reason.   
  
//"I said, shut up. Should I be more blunt because you're too stupid to understand?"  
  
"Yuki, why are you mad at me? Did I do anything wrong?"  
  
"I have plenty of reason to be mad at you. You're loud, annoying, troublesome, and it's costing money to house you. To put it bluntly, I want you out."  
  
"Yuki. . . ."//  
  
I was so shocked when I ran out of his room. I remember exactly how it hurt when he grabbed my wrist and threw me away. I wanted to shrivel up and die. It took me awhile to regain my composure and come here.   
  
//"Yuki! Let me in. Please, Yuki! Why can't you let me in?" //  
  
I sounded so pathetic then. My tears come in short sobs, making my long orange sleeves wet. Why couldn't I just get him out of my head? I looked up though bubble gum pink bangs to see a hotel. I could stay there for the night. Just until I can think of something. I feel so cold, but it isn't the same cold I felt when I left then. It's on the inside. Help me, Yuki. I feel like I'm gonna die.  
  
Yuki  
  
For a strange reason, I'm a creature of habit. All I can think about is cigarettes, alcohol, and sex. I starve for these basic things in my life, so here I find myself, in the arms of another and fucking the stupid bitch till my breath is gone. I want to get my Shuichi back. He is at least better in bed than this hag. By chance, I came across the fangirl while returning from my long walk to the store, a job usually given to my muse. That's just like him to be gone when I need really him. Damn it, I was out of cigarettes and I was about to die from a nicotine deficiency. She practically pounced on me and started wailing about some book I had written. Me, being a creature of habit, invited the harlot into my bed. I honestly don't know why I cannot live without it. I assume it must be denial rearing it's ugly head again. How I loathe the taste of defeat. I think about the one I call a lover. How is it that he keeps coming back for more, despite all that I do to him. My lover seems to have a way with things. He is stubborn beyond fathom and will do anything to get his way. I love that fire about him. It burns in my mind, raising my peak of pleasure as I imagine him wrestling underneath me, covered in perspiration and wishing for me and only me.  
  
He gives me my way with him, asking for more and begging me to fill him. The man, no longer a gangly teenager full of energy and noise, plants calm and tiny kisses along the length of my body, purposely sending each one straight into my heart. I want to tell him how much I love his every inch of perfect skin touching mine in the kindest ways. He whispers the three angelic words yet again into my sensitive ears. I want him to know that he's driving me crazy, even when we are apart.   
  
"Damn it Shu, what have you done to me?" I say with a soft moan. Miwata I think, or whatever name the poor bitch was saddled with, ceases movement underneath me. I pull out and reach for my cigarettes and lighter. Nicotine can cure this. I've had enough of her anyway.   
  
"Wow. That was so good! I want your number. Maybe we can do this again sometime." She collapses on my bed, turning her sweat-covered body in my clean sheets.  
  
"Really? That's nice." I try to avoid contact with her as I pull on a pair of black pants and a white shirt. I've gotten what I want already.  
  
"Hey . . . Who the hell is Shu?" She questions. Shit. Why the hell is she still here? I glare at the pest, letting her know that her presence is unwelcome .  
  
"Who the hell are you?" I reply coldly, taking another long drag from my cigarette a moment later. I'm satisfied with my come back.   
  
  
  
"What?" She says in a harsh whisper. I smile maliciously, savoring the taste of menthol on my tongue.  
  
"You heard me. I don't know you, get out of my apartment."  
  
"But . . . You don't want . . . "  
  
"No. I don't want your phone number." I say in a mocking tone, blowing smoke in the girl's face which shortly thereafter turns blush red. She pulls on her clothes and marches out the door. I chuckle a bit, then my mind goes right back to my lover. That is where it belongs, after all. I can imagine him, having a ball at his friends house, ready to come back home to me the next day.   
  
But what if he didn't. . . .   
  
I close my eyes, swallowing the image of him whole, letting it fill me, and even arouse me. I exhale the smoke from my lungs only to take another draw a moment later. He must have wanted so much from me, all of the things I never gave him. Love, for one, but what about respect and caring? Did he want this too? I just couldn't see how he could stay with me so long. Then again, I couldn't see how he could stay with me any longer. I open my eyes. The smell of sex hangs heavily in the room. I hate it when it isn't mixed with that sweet strawberry smell that intoxicates me. Shuichi. In a blind panic, I race to the shower, stripping as I go. How could I not feel sick after doing that?  
  
I let the scalding water wash away my sweat and guilt. I can't even breathe as I stand, head tilted upwards and steam filling my lungs. I feel as though I've committed the ultimate sin. I hadn't felt this bad after sex since I deflowered the idiot I call a boyfriend. Slinking down to the hard tile, I once again feel a pang of regret.   
  
"God, or whoever the hell is keeping me alive, give him back to me. Please." Drops of water hang from my bangs like jewels from a chandelier. Each droplet slowly gives way, falling onto my praying hands. I haven't prayed ever since I was a child.  
  
Shuichi  
  
  
  
"Please, God. Please make Yuki see how much he is hurting me. Please bring him to me . . . " I cry as I look through a hotel room window that night. I know, I really sound pathetic now. It is worth a try though. Anything is worth it if it will let me be with Yuki again. Because no matter how cold he seems on the outside, it's only to hide his feelings on the inside. No one is that cold. He does love me. I know it.   
  
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A/N:  
  
Wow, I have lots of reviewers! Thank you all again for reveiwing! You all seem to like my story fine, so I feel compelled to write more ^__^ . As for the topic of my story seeming typical, don't worry, the story will start to take a few bizzare twists and turns soon! But nothing too crazy of course. Thank you all once again. Ja ne Minna-san! 


	3. Color

Love Lemonade  
  
by: Chiisu Y.  
  
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Disclaimer: Gravi and it's characters are not mine, just so you know. Although I think you may have noticed already ^__^ Thank you all for reading this far, and a special thank you to all of my reveiwers. I would like to have 45 reveiws before I start chapter four though, so please keep them coming! ^__^   
  
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Five years later  
  
//Yuki//  
  
  
  
"No! I still need you damn it! Come back, Shuichi . . . Come back . . . " I run frantically, trying to reach him, yet he remains just out of my grasp. He is always just out of my grasp. I can never reach an angel, no matter how hard I try. I seek him out with blind eyes, feeling my way around the darkness for something, anything, tangible. In my blind panic I can hardly hear him whisper my name, yet the voice comes clear. It rides softly on the wind, finding me and overpowering me.  
  
"Yuki . . . Yuki." The melodious voice sounds.  
  
  
  
My eyes unfold suddenly, becoming drowned by an overwhelming stream of vivid color. It was like seeing for the first time. All at once, everything was clear, touchable. My pain was lifted. Reluctantly, I allowed the voice to wash over me, cleansing my soul as it touched my heart and bathed it in a shallow light. My eyes drifted over the astonishing scene, filling with emotion that I hadn't experienced in years. I could see the grass at my feet as my head hung low, a lustrous green and breathtakingly real. As I begin to see this wonderful world in color, the light of my heart fills the sky in a glistening rain of radiance. Full of spirit as the sun illuminates them, the brilliant petals of the violets smile at me, their royal flowers coming to life and joining in song. The daffodils sang to me gathering with the peach blossoms in a sprightly dance. Each, seemingly snow covered, daisy would follow in a chorus, tossing back it's head to the butterflies, kissing them sweetly. In this garden I could hear the song of a waterfall flowing as a steady river through the earth, lifting up the songs of the flowers in joy. It's crystalline water poured around the scene, secluding me from the rest of the world and sheltering me from it's unspeakable terror. It was perfect, among the most wonderful sights I had ever witnessed, but there was still one better. That one sight would change everything. Shuichi stands ahead of me, as if to tell me to never look back. I cannot take my eyes off of him and so find myself doused in raw emotion. He reaches down to me, a ghostly hand barely brushing my cheek, and begins moving his mouth. Although I can't hear it, I know he is singing to me. I know he is singing the song of the flowers. Slowly, he drifts away, turning back to the bright cerulean sky. I cry as he vanishes, but he stops.   
  
  
  
He turns over his shoulder, giving me an enrapturing grin, and then his rose-colored lips part whispering songful words past them. I want to be with him again, to feel the joy I once had. I want to hear the song.   
  
Slowly, my pale eyelids flutter open. I glance over toward the pastel pillow next to me. It's empty. With a sigh, I run my hands through my locks then gaze into the morning sky. I recall his sweet smell, a subtle strawberry perfume that forever douses his skin and I can see his endearing smile, halfway covered by his pillow from snuggling it too much. I wait for him to lean to my ear and whisper those three words that I had heard from him since he had moved in seven years ago and that I hadn't heard since he left.   
  
"Shuichi." The word pours mellifluously from my mouth. I savor each syllable on my tongue, praying that I could hear it again with him at my side.   
  
All these years, I haven't been able to understand the lyrics to his song. Still, I so long to hear each word and know what he had been attempting to tell me in those haunting dreams. You see, he left me when I had thought he wouldn't dare. I had underestimated him. The man seemed as though he couldn't live on his own if he tried, he certainly didn't pass as the independent type. I said he'd be back in a few days, begging me to take him in. The rest hoped I had been telling the truth, even I did. For a while, I speculated he was at his best friend's house, living the good life. But in time, even Hiro didn't know where the little ball of energy could be found. They all blamed me for Shuichi's disappearance, yet none of them had considered that he wanted to be on his own. He did, right? Otherwise, he would've come back to me. He wouldn't have left a life of fame and fortune just to be alone. The very thought is nonsensical. So I supposed he was in pain, maybe injured somewhere and yearning to find hope. That was when I started a search. Everyone I knew was on the lookout for the pink-haired half-wit. In a year's time, everyone had told me it was a lost cause, that he was probably dead. In a year's time, I began to believe it. I found myself musing on my worth often, as a sort of admonisher to the atrocities I had committed. I vowed that I would even give up everything I owned if it were to bring my love back to me. I'll probably never hear him sing that infuriatingly angelical song to me, but it remains a lingering and beautiful dancing dream.   
  
I feel my body racking with short sobs, starving for my darling to kiss me again, to tell me that everything is all right, just as he always had. I'm obsessed with him, and to be apart drives me crazy. For the first time in my life, I was truly alone.   
  
Then, the phone rang, a reminder to the drudgery that I still had ahead of me. I wanted to tear it out of the wall and throw it across my room. Still, a ringing phone must be answered. So I got up. I don't remember what exactly made me want to pick up the phone, but I bring it to my ear nonetheless, awaiting whatever the irritating soul on the other line must say.   
  
  
  
"Good morning Eiri. I have something to tell you and I think you should sit down for it." An abnormally feminine voice tells me. It is none other than Tohma, the son of a bitch brother-in-law who was and still is disgustingly infatuated with me. I want to reprimand the bleach-blonde offender, being sure to yank every strand of vexatiously pale hair from his head. For some reason, I had no trouble believing that he had the audacity to call at this hour. I glance over at the digital clock on my night stand and it glares back at me. 6:03am . . . damn you Tohma.  
  
"Whatever, Seguchi. I'm sitting." I tell the nettling bastard. Of course, me being who I am remained standing and quite exasperated. "What do you want?"  
  
My eyes widen as he relates the information. With no time wasted, my legs give way from under me, bringing me collapsing down onto the hardwood floor. I wasn't prepared for it.   
  
"I'll be there soon."  
  
//Shuichi//  
  
Light, the source of all hope, the reason for life. It enraptures me, making me wonder about myself and about my past. My eyes cannot pull away. My heart cannot heal. All are questions I cannot answer myself.   
  
I've become nothing. I've become a victim to the light, falling under it's spell. This room is unfamiliar to me. I don't remember being in it ever in my life, so that must mean that I've never been here. But if I've never been here, then why are they all saying that I'm home again? Why are people telling me that I'm back? All are questions I cannot answer myself.   
  
This room is white. I have never been too fond of the color. At least, I think I've never been too fond of the color. I'm not sure anymore. Everything seems like that now. It's all white, plain and artless. I continue to stare through long brown bangs with hints of pink hair tangled in them. I continue to stare at that white, plain, and artless wall. The light glares into my eyes. It makes my skin look paler and my hair look darker. I hear a voice calling me. It's that black-haired woman once again. She was the one who told me that I was home. She brought me in this room and put me in this large shirt. The woman also tied back my hair. All of it won't go up though. I don't remember her name. The woman smiles at me, I stare back. She talks to me, I stare back. She laughs and touches my arm, I stare back. This game has gotten boring fast. I don't see why they want me here. I don't see why they think I belong here. All are questions I cannot answer myself.  
  
She says that I'll be seeing someone today, someone from my past. I continue to stare at her, my eyes becoming tired with the brightness of her skin. She says my name is Shuichi and she keeps calling me that. I don't know, I don't care. She says that I'll be going home in a few days. They confuse me like that a lot. First they tell me that I'm home, then they say I'm going home. I don't understand any of it, but I continue to look attentive. I know she's lying from behind those brown eyes.  
  
They say I'm mute, one of them says I'm just slow, assuming that just because I don't talk means that I can't hear. They say I have no memory of my past. I remain confused. I have plenty of memories, just not from any longer than three or four years ago. They don't know what happened either, so they can't act like it's my fault. The woman grins at me and tries to give me a book. She says the writer is the one coming today. I stare at her then I stare at the book. The lettering on the cover says "Snow". 'I don't want it, so get it out of my face.' I think silently. She stops shoving literature in my hands then pats my shoulder. Why she touches me, I'll never know.  
  
She goes behind the door and gazes at me from the window. I hope it isn't one of those windows that you're not supposed to see through, because if it is, it doesn't work very well. I wait and wait for something. I'm not sure if I'm waiting for her. Maybe I'm waiting for the person from my past. I'm not sure I even care.   
  
Soon she comes back in. She babbles for a while about how I should start some medications soon. I'm not sick, I'm just confused. Of course, they don't care. A tall man talks to her then she turns to me, smiling that idiotic smile and babbling on. The woman says that I'll see the man soon, the one from my past. Does she want some sort of prize or merit for telling me that? I want her to go away. I don't want to remember my past. It was too painful.  
  
//Yuki//  
  
I walk into a hospital of some sort, unsure of the name and where exactly I was headed. All I knew was that this wasn't a regular hospital. It was a mental institution. It gave me the creeps to be in a place like this. To think that my love was here, probably being watched like a hawk, made the dizzy feeling moderately worse. I walked nonchalantly to the receptionist desk, sure to throw a well planned scowl to any individual who dare bar my path. I fixed my plain black tie as I walked ahead, soon finding myself smoothing down my coat as well. I figured this outfit was good enough to see him in. A simple black suit, and a blue shirt for some color. After all, Shuichi loved color. I approached the desk and began my argument, I was not in the mood to deal with any slacking personnel today.   
  
"Ma'am, I'm dreadfully sorry to bother you, but I'm looking for room 213. Perhaps you could point me in the direction of-" The excitable burgundy-haired woman bounded from behind the desk immediately, leaving whatever important paperwork she had been attending to. "Um..." I stared at her, part of me wanting her to cooperate, part of me wanting to run. Fans were almost always persistent and sometimes even violent.  
  
  
  
"Wow! I love you so much, Yuki-sensei! Let me take you to the room. Please, oh please!" She whined. She pounced on me, latching to my arm and insisting on walking me to the room.  
  
"Forget it, Kanna! I'll take you, Eiri-sama!" Another yelled from down the hall, walking briskly in our direction   
  
"No, you don't Ayane, I saw him first!" The first girl hissed. "And will you keep it down? We're in a hospital!"  
  
"I'm so sorry ladies, but I'll have to decline." I half-smiled charmingly. Shortly after I turned away from the bout, I cringed. I detest pushy fans.  
  
"No! Look at what you did Aya, You made him leave!" The nurses continued to fight as I walked into the office.  
  
"Room 213." I sighed. My golden eyes fixated on the number. This was a moment of truth. I had no idea what to expect. What if he hated me for kicking him out all those years ago? What if he wanted to forget about me? I didn't even know what he would look like. Things would be so different. Everything would be different. I wanted to forget him and everything he had given me. Although I had tried to forget, part of me knew he was still alive and that this day would come. It was all just a matter of time until I would see him again. Still, that didn't mean I was ready. So I closed my eyes and breathed deep, and after a few minutes of mental preparation, I let myself in. I would see him whether I was ready or not.  
  
//Shuichi//  
  
"Shuichi, someone is here to see you." The woman said softly. I glared at her. She had no business being in mine. I just wanted to get this over with. I wanted to be something again. After all that had happened, my memories were best left forgotten. The visions were so clear at the time, but now everything is clouded and dark. I'm seeking myself out with blind eyes, feeling around in the darkness for something, anything I can grasp. I recall kind smiles, warm kisses, and songs written and sung in the most angelic ways. This is all an extension of me. I am my past, yet without a past to uncover, I become nothing again. I despise this cycle.   
  
I kill.  
  
I die.  
  
I come back.  
  
I kill.  
  
I die.  
  
I come back.  
  
I kill again.   
  
The wall glares at me, taking my words and blinding me with my past. The florescent lights glower on me, making me remember things I have forgotten and things I want to forget. All of my secrets and dreams lay within those florescent lights. It is because of those lights that I can remember being here. Even when my thoughts are gone, I'll have those lights to remind me. I'm its victim, the light that is. Always, I find myself staring at them, hoping that they will bring me just one good memory.  
  
The door sounds.  
  
The woman smiles again then goes to open the door. She really is a half-wit.   
  
"Shuichi, he's here." Her voice is calm and familiar. It's probably the only one I trust in this new place.   
  
Almost mechanically, I turn myself to face the sound. My eyes go first, and then my head. I'm greeted with the sight of a man and the undoubtably strange yet sincere woman. They stand there, just as the walls do. The man isn't much to look at in my eyes, but he's most likely handsome to some. He looks incredibly skinny, unhealthy even. His hair seems of a dull golden blonde and is quite tussled. It's not half as unkempt as mine is, but fairly close. His skin is ashy and pale. It's not as toned down as mine, but almost there. He wears a lot of black, another color I'm not fond of. The only thing about him that keeps my focus on him are his beautiful and glistening hazel eyes. As he looks at me, I can see them filled with emotion and swimming with tears. He appears shocked to see me. The odd thing is, I'm not at all enthralled to see him. I really don't see how he could be crying over someone he's never met. Or maybe, it's me that has never met him. I find myself gazing, unable to find a name to match his face. Of course I wouldn't. He reaches down to touch me. Why must everyone touch me? I recoil a little. Why does he want to know me so badly? I say all I can. The only words I can find to aid me.  
  
"Who are you?"  
  
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A/N:  
  
I told you that you would see some changes. Let's have a show of hands, who was expecting that? Anywho, I don't have an editor, so you'll have to excuse me if things sound a bit rough around the edges. I want to thank everyone who has been reading and reviewing. ::pets her reviewers:: Please keep em coming if you want to see a fourth chapter of LL, okay? okay! Thanks again!  
  
Chiisu Y. 


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